Whores and Virgins : Pre-Pristine Condition
by harrishawksuperiour
Summary: A small girl is lured away from home and into an awful existence in the dreaded Undercity of Coruscant. She'll prove to be stronger than expected but every day is more horrific than the last over several years as she is trained as a pleasure slave, a docile submissive. Fortunately for the ones who took her, the Admiral has plenty to spend on the right companion for his son.
1. Chapter 1 - Snatched

((This story is the prequel to Pristine Condition which can be found here : s/11819228/1/Pristine-Condition ))

Keir and his wife Siva were in their late thirties when their dark haired princess entered their lives. _She'll break hearts_ they were told like every new parent but they truly believed it and those who said it did too. It wasn't just regurgitated rhetoric, it was a genuine observation. She would be stunning. It may have been the reason for her terrible fate.

Lucilla had been a beautiful baby and had been doted on by her parents. And why shouldn't she be? She rarely cried, took her meals when they were given and slept as most parents wished their children would.

She was an only child who had been weak and small at birth but grew stronger by the day; they realized they were lucky to still have her. Lucilla's mother was ill consistently after their beloved daughter was born, the fumes of the Undercity didn't help. There would be no siblings for her.

Not that it mattered to her. She grew into the beauty that had been predicted, at least by the time she was six years old. Hair as black as night (it hadn't changed from when she was born), ivory skin and magnificent blue eyes of an indescribable shade made her stand out like her mother had. She breezed through as a docile child, little fazing her.

She was adored but not spoiled; they couldn't afford to spoil her. Complacent in the little she had, she adjusted to her family situation, assuming from the beginning that it was normal. She didn't question why her mother couldn't play with her or why her father was rarely at home.

She just knew that when she crawled into bed beside her mother that she was held like she was the most precious thing in the world. She knew that when her father did arrive home after days, weeks or even months away that she was swept up and cuddled. Sometimes he brought her back little gifts; an unusual shaped stone, a pretty flower or the shed claw of an animal; other times he couldn't.

Siva was native to Coruscant; the Undercity specifically. Keir was not. He didn't have the same years of continuous poisonous exposure that his wife did. Some of the dwellers had a stronger immunity than others but Siva was not one of these. In addition to the smog clouding her lungs, a difficult birth weakened her to a shadow of her former self.

"You'll be good for mama, won't you?" He sounded dejected, tortured but holding himself together for his daughter's sake. Keir held her up in his arms with a feigned smile. Lucilla's arms wrapped round her father's neck and those blue orbs watched his; he hated leaving and they both knew it.

" _I will, papa….."_

"My best girl. I'll miss you."

" _I'll miss you too. When will you be back?"_

"I don't know, sweetheart. As soon as I can." A defeated sigh ripped from between his lips when he noticed the time. Lucilla was placed down and a small but adoring kiss was placed to her forehead. The hesitation to leave was clear. "I love you, Lucy."

" _I love you too, papa."_

Needless to say, Keir didn't think that this may be the last time he ever saw his darling daughter.

Keir was gone a week when Siva died. Lucilla was alone in their bare dwelling with her mother's body for what felt like hours, lying beside her in the bed and cuddled against her back; weeping intermittently.

It didn't seem real. How could her mother be gone? Mama was always there when papa was gone and now she wasn't? How? That certainly didn't help her tears. She'd already tried and failed to rouse her until she realized she needed to find her father.

Lucilla had been told numerous times not to go outside alone, that it was far too dangerous. The Undercity was full with the bottom feeders of society and child or not, they wouldn't hesitate to harm her. Unfortunately for her, she was about to learn this the hard way.

The streets of the Undercity were vicious. Dark, smoky and crowded; this place was difficult to police. The most unsavoury characters roamed the streets, often shouting profanities at each other, sometimes fights would break out. It was no place for a young child, let alone a young child on her own.

She coughed slightly, feebly as the toxic air entered her delicate little chest and the smoke stung her eyes. Little Lucy had never been outside alone before and now it seemed there was good reason for that. Arriving at a familiar corner, Lucilla looked around and realized she recognized nothing. The frightened child was lost.

Small, delicate, frightened and alone; Lucilla looked around the bustling streets with panic. Everyone was bigger than her and all seemed to ignore her. Lip quivering and eyes filling, she couldn't find her father. The rain was almost acidic when it started, nearly burning when it lashed down onto her paper-like skin.

She found shelter in a nearby doorway and pulled the loose material of her dress and coat closer around her. Sitting among the rubbish strewn from the ripped bags, Lucilla tucked her knees up to her face and encircled her arms around them. Cold, wet, confused and distraught; the little darling broke down into heavy sobs that wracked her tiny form. Unfortunately, she caught the attention of the wrong person.

Varden Zedar was notorious. A criminal, a gangster, a conman; the most reputable thing about him was the nefarious business he ran for only the wealthiest _clients._ That business was pleasure slaves. Slavery was beginning to be regulated and in some cases, banned but the likes of Zedar took no notice of such regulations.

He was about thirty two when he found the little girl, alone and lost in the Undercity. Tattooed with his greasy brown hair in a ponytail, those ears were well adept at picking up the sounds of money and they hadn't failed him this time. He followed the melody of helpless weeping and found probably the single greatest find of his vile career.

"Hey….." He found the dirty bundle of roughly sewed fabric and crouched before it then peered into it, lifting a hand to gently move it and see inside. He was met with a pair of eyes of the most incredible shade; watering and petrified. He loosened the cloth around her face and was taken aback by the sweet, striking features underneath.

"What're the tears for?" He asked softly, leaning in to project trustworthiness and he appeared to be successful. "Pretty girls shouldn't be crying." And she really was pretty. Pretty was even an understatement.

" _My mama died."_ Lucilla wept to the stranger, unable to stop the spillage soaking her cheeks. _"I was at home with her and she died….. I'm trying to find my papa, have you seen him?"_ This poor little creature. And she was so _trusting._

"I haven't seen him." Varden answered gently and took the liberty to glance up and down the street to add to the act of it before looking back to the distraught child. "You shouldn't be out here on your own. How old are you?"

" _I'm six…."_

"You're six." Unit signs flashed before Varden's cold, brown eyes. She was perfect. He could train her properly, break her in properly and she was striking to look at. If all went well, she would be massively valuable to him. He would be right. Well, for a short time.

"Why don't you come with me? We might find your papa on the way?" Her soft, distraught little sniffles would have broken hearts and flared sympathy but Varden didn't have a heart nor did he bother with sympathy. A grimy, bony hand was extended and Lucilla (not knowing the implications) took it.

The backstreets were taken to the compound, avoiding any chance of finding her 'papa' along the way. The compound lay on the outskirts of the Undercity and the little one's hand was held all the way there should she try and flee. So far, she seemed docile enough to just walk with him. The more time he spent with her, the easier she seemed to be to mould.

Brick walls with spirals of barbed wire on top; they were to keep in rather than to keep out. The gates, as tall as the walls surrounding, slid to the side to let them past. The dusky, concrete maze of shared living quarters (not that she knew what they were then) didn't seem to have a lot of footfall. Then again, the less movement outside, the better. It wouldn't do to attract attention.

The compound seemed to be abandoned. They walked for close to five or six minutes without meeting a single soul but the number of cameras scattered throughout the compound wasn't comforting. Lucilla looked around and her nerves started to climb with them towards the door of a grander looking building than the rest.

She wasn't allowed to ask about her papa anymore. She wasn't allowed to cry for her mama. They told her they'd hurt her if she did. They asked her name, she told them it was Lucilla. They said: Not anymore.

Lucilla lay in a small, cold bed that night. And despite being told, she cried herself to sleep. Or she tried to. She felt a weight on the side of her bed and a hand stroke through her dark locks. When she turned and looked over her shoulder, her bloodshot eyes found a girl a few years older than her. A girl that sat with her and assured her gently. A girl that would meet a premature end. Her name was Aleen.


	2. Chapter 2 - Line -Ups

When Lucilla arrived at the compound, there were eight girls (all human) altogether, including herself and she was the youngest in her bunker (and the compound itself). Each bunker (the concrete squares scattered throughout the compound) consisted of four bedrooms and two bathrooms with two girls to each bedroom. There were others but she never saw them. She remembered the eldest, Eva, shaking her head and sighing that they were getting younger.

Eva wasn't there for much longer after that, she was sixteen and ready to go. They were down to seven. She didn't need to be there for long to realize that losing one of their bunker mates was a traumatic event. The night Eva left; they huddled up together and tried to comfort each other through their own tears. It was a combination of heartbreak, mourning and fear that inspired such a reaction.

Saf was the eldest after Eva left. She was fifteen and thankfully lasted three years after Lucilla arrived. They all seemed to share the common trait of gentility and docility and so looked after each other. Especially little Lucilla who could barely read or write. Had any of them been outside the compound, it would have been impossible not to notice the frenzied forty-something year old frantically looking for his dark haired princess and handing out copies of her holograph to anyone who would take them. Some did, some didn't. Every day, Keir persevered but it was only a matter of time before he resigned himself to putting Lucilla's name on Siva's tombstone.

They (the men in the grander building) took her name and gave her a number instead. One Zero Four. They rarely used it. They preferred 'Brat'. She didn't really notice that her number was only used when there was someone from outside the compound present; a client. Then again, she didn't know who or what they were either but sometimes when one appeared, one of the older girls went missing. When a client entered the compound, it was usually Lucilla they sent for before a 'line-up'.

Only during a 'line-up' did she see girls she didn't recognize. What Eva had said now made sense, they were all older in their late teens and seemingly from other bunkers. But Lucilla focused; if she did, they wouldn't hurt her. She poured drinks, fetched thing and stayed silently in the corner; an exercise to remind her of where she belonged: Seen and not heard. That was the beginning of her training.

By the time Lucilla was ten, Saf was also gone and Mira a year or so after her. Her duties had intensified from pouring drinks and standing in the corner. It had escalated to removing shoes, stripping away socks and perfecting the foot rub; not to mention unquestioning obedience. Varden trained her himself and insisted she would be his to do so alone for imprinting purposes; he'd found her after all. She was a pretty child and she would grow into a stunning adult, he could be assured of that. With that kind of assurance, he was safe in the knowledge that if she was trained correctly and exposed to plenty over a long period of time; she'd fetch a handsome price as his personal project.

Lucilla was the newest addition to the bunker for two years when Nara arrived but remained the youngest at eight while Nara was ten. With the enclosing restrictions and ultimate attempts at phasing out slavery (except on Tatooine to prevent 'slave culture' from being 'threatened') becoming more prevalent, extra care was taken and so fewer girls were brought to the compound. The less attention attracted the better. Apparently, the operation had thrived more freely before these restrictions were proposed. It also meant the trips to Tatooine increased and those trips had three purposes.

Before their final (separate) departures, Saf and Mira would disappear for a day or so but always returned. When they came back, they didn't speak nor did they disclose to the younger ones where they'd been. Almost every time, they were disturbed and upset but quickly buried it with the continued pressings of "What's the matter?" and "Are you alright?". It was only fair to try and hold on to what innocence the little ones had so far but it wouldn't last; not when their time would come. And it would come.

Lucilla was eleven when Aleen disappeared for a day after she turned fifteen. Like the others, she returned speechless, afraid and unwilling (or incapable) of speaking about what had happened.

" _Aleen."_ Lucilla pulled back the covers of Aleen's bed in the dead of night and slipped in beside her friend as she had a habit of doing. The ritual was so ingrained that the rustling as Aleen pushed over towards the wall to give the younger female room was unnoticed. Lucilla settled into comfort and dread started to build in Aleen at the impending question. _"Aleen?"_ The sweet little voice broke the silence again in a worried whisper. _"Aleen, what happened?"_

"Nothing happened, Lou." Aleen answered quietly but with little conviction and if the room hadn't been so dark, Lucilla would have seen the broken way that her friend stared at the ceiling. The horrendous images flashed in front of her eyes and the noises rang in her head. She knew some of them. They'd gone before Lucilla arrived but had come back when their master's seemingly didn't want them anymore. And what they'd been reduced to was what Aleen had witnessed in the cantina. "I'm alright, go to sleep."

During the ages of eleven and twelve, Lucilla's time with Varden was usually spent in silence. She was given extra skills the other girls weren't; cooking, cleaning and sewing. Those things would combine to make her extra irresistible not that she would need help with that; her later master would attest to it. She may have been young but Lucilla was clever; she knew if she behaved and did as she was supposed to, she wouldn't be struck. To obey was to remain unharmed. Most of the time. Too often for her liking, she was struck for no reason.

"Men will be cruel, they will be cold. They **will** punish you." He told her for the umpteenth time as he sauntered aimlessly around the room without sparing a glance to the little female on the floor, clutching her face and trying not to cry. He'd strike her again in a different way if she cried. By now, she knew (or thought she knew) what she was going to be. She assumed she would be just an ordinary servant; an extension of a family. Varden was slightly older now and in his late thirties but dedicated himself to training an exceptional 'companion' as well as his other nefarious endeavours on the side. "Remember that, brat."

She knew better than to get up before he told her. She waited until the permission granting nod was given and only then did she stand; hands folded in front of her and her head bowed as she had been taught. He never hit her hard enough to scar her; in fact he rarely broke the skin. He would knock her just hard enough to bruise her or temporarily mark her; an injury he knew would fade and therefore wouldn't blemish her otherwise pristine condition. Her skin and complexion was perfect, why ruin it?

Line-ups were one of her more sinister duties. Lucilla (Varden's 'favourite') prepped the room. On this particular day, a black and purple cloud rimmed underneath her left eye where the back of his hand had collided with three days previous, probably for something silly like forgetting to dust something or sweep a certain room. But the difference between her and the other girls that slunk into the room in single file with their heads down was that Lucilla was fully clothed. Granted, her wardrobe was nothing special or extravagant (far from it) and would be rags compared to the clothes that her General would gift to her even though he would refuse to call them gifts.

Sometimes Lucilla recognized the girls in the line-ups as they may have been in more than one before they were chosen. Most of the time, she didn't recognize them and so it wasn't so awkward when they were escorted in without a stitch of clothing on their bodies. By now, it was second nature to her to pour the drinks, stand quietly in the corner and ignore the eyes of the client that would linger on her temporarily, despite her age.

However, when this particular line-up was led in, Lucilla didn't look up. She never did, maybe it was some sort of bred-in respect for them and what they were about to endure. Though it was yet to happen to her, she could more than appreciate that it was humiliating. The client; a tall, broad man in a suit, paced the floor in costly, leather shoes that were probably worth more than her father made in a year. He scrutinized each and every one until he got to the end of the line-up and spent even longer looking at that particular girl.

Of course, the room was silent and was broken by a terrified little sniffle. Only then did Lucilla look up to see Aleen being led away.


End file.
